


A Mountain Thrice Moved

by M493



Series: Can you code a beating heart? [2]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:05:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M493/pseuds/M493
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Others remember John and Dorian.</p><p>Richard Paul remembers The Wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mountain Thrice Moved

When Richard Paul was very young, he knew two things with certainty. One, that darkness was not to be feared, and, two, that there were worse things to fear than the lack of light; of sight.

 

(-)

"Hello, call me Dorian."

Richard looks at the outstretched hand then to the grinning face of the man who owns it. "Paul," Richard answers, grasping the man's hand in a firm grip, "Richard Paul."

(-)

Nobody talks about it.

The bodies.

Nobody talks about the men and women alike throwing themselves at the wall, scaling it just to get to the Other Side.

Nobody talks about how days later, those very same men and women are found, lifeless, at the base of the wall, right back at where they started; right back to where they belong and forever shall be.

(-)

Dorian, arms crossed and hands tucked under his armpits, sits down across Richard and says, with a blunt finality that only Dorian can manage without sounding rude, "What do you think of the MXs? I don't think I like them very much. They're so squinty- and they stare a lot. I _hate_ that they stare a lot."

Richard takes a sip from his coffee, waits for the rest of what Dorian has to say. He isn't disappointed.

"How come you get along with yours so well, man?"

Does he, _really_? Richard snorts and earns himself a little kick in the calf for his trouble. Dorian says, "I don't think it's funny."

Richard resists the urge to kick back, "I try not to explain the concept of compassion and making sacrifices to them and it works out alright."

Dorian hums like he understands.

(-) 

The first time Richard ever saw a synthetic, it shot a young woman holding a shiv. Richard was eight.

Richard could also have died had that synthetic not done what it did.

For two days, the dim red light pouring from the synthetic's only working eye provided Richard with light in the dark. For the first time since his dad was taken by the FD-23 virus, Richard wasn't alone.

(-)

He gets the call at 23:45.

Richard Paul and his MX get to the scene at 23:53, by that time Dorian and his JHN are gone. _Good_.

"Detective Paul, there are three bodies awaiting your inspection. Detective Dorian and his JHN are in pursuit of the-"

"Give me the files," Richard cuts in smoothly. He walks past his MX and looks at the body at his feet. His MX, ever the prompt one, places a data pad in Richard's upturned hand.

Has it always been this way?

When did his job, more or less, become cleaning up after Dorian's messes?

(-)

Richard had never owned a JHN. He had an MX-42, a prototype of sorts that paved the way for the MX-43. Richard was one of the men hand-picked to test the MX-42; he was also one of the many who submitted a positive report on the performance of the prototype.

Richard was the only man that was present from the test group for when the MX-42 units were decommissioned and scrapped for parts. Shortly after, the MX-43 units were made the police standard. 

(-)

"JHN, get me another cup of coffee," Richard doesn't look up from his computer, but he smirks when the JHN beside him tenses. When the JHN doesn't move, Richard looks up to see that the JHN is staring at him. And, lo and behold, it looks annoyed. Possibly even angry. _Interesting_.

Richard places his elbow on his desk and leans his chin on the palm of his hand, "Well?"

With an almost imperceptible eye roll, the JHN turns on its heel and leaves. It comes back a few minutes later with coffee. And, possibly, just to get on Richard's nerves, it completely forgets to add sugar.

"Dorian," the JHN says when it sees Dorian stroll in. Richard tries not to glare at the JHN too much. His coffee is still without a sufficient amount of sugar. The JHN turns to him and Richard turns his gaze to the ceiling. The crap he has to go through on a daily basis.

When Dorian leaves with his JHN, Richard leans back on his chair and wishes his MX wasn't currently being repaired. At least his MX knew how to make a good cup of coffee.

(-)

"What do you remember?"

Richard fits his small body tighter against the corner of the pristine white chaise and instantly feels too dirty to be in such a white office. Richard doesn't answer.

The woman jots something down on her data pad and looks at Richard as if she understands. She doesn't; Richard knows she doesn't.

"You are aware that your friends did not make it?"

Richard nods. He remembers the cold, flitting from shelter to shelter, hoping for enough food, trying to fit in, and, most importantly, never looking at the wall. _Never look back_. He remembers feeling like he doesn't belong among a group of shelter goers, people who don't belong either.

"You're safe now. There is this nice lady who volunteered to take you in."

For a kid who has had to make do with nothing that meant _everything_.

(-) 

Richard, along with other available units, are called for backup. Richard is the first to respond, so he and his MX head straight into the Cyan-telecom building.

He finds a woman, face red and tear streaked, huddled underneath an office desk. He gestures for his MX to stand guard as he crouches down to speak to the frightened woman.

Her tears are warm where she presses her face to the juncture between Richard's neck and shoulder. She whispers ' _thank you_ ' over and over again and he doesn't find it in himself to hand her off to an MX. Instead, Richard escorts the woman outside the building himself until an EMT takes her from him.

"Detective?" Richard's MX says, awaiting his command.

"Help the remaining civilians, I will locate Dorian," Richard says, taking his gun from his holster as both he and his MX re-enter the building.

In the end, Richard can admit to being mildly surprised to have a JHN- _Dorian's_ JHN- turn on him. But something in the JHN's expression stills Richard's finger from pulling the trigger. Instead, he tells the JHN to put his gun down.

The JHN complies enough to put a bullet through Richard's foot.

(-)

The nights are the worst beyond the wall. It is always so dark and viciously cold. The moon is usually blotted out by clouds and smog. There were no visible stars.

Richard, naive and much too young, once thought he had seen a shooting star. It turned out to be the light on a passing drone. _Drones are not for wishing,_ the synthetic had told Richard once, in the dead of the night. Richard nodded and whispered, " _Stars aren't for wishing either._ "

(-)

"Do you find my presence satisfactory, detective?"

"Why?"

The MX's face lights up as it considers his question, "I wish to know if you are satisfied with my unit or if you find the more inferior JHN model prefera-"

Richard raises a hand and effectively silences his MX, "Is the JHN here _right now_?"

The MX's face lights up again, no doubt checking the security cameras of the hospital before answering, "Negative."

"Exactly," Richard says, leaning back on the giant hospital pillow allotted to him. "As far as I'm concerned, I'll take your company over that JHN any day of the week."

"The JHN did shoot you in the foot, it is understandable that you will not wish for its company," the MX nods, seemingly agreeing with itself.

 

Richard smiles privately to himself, "That's what I'm saying. MXs over JHNs for this guy right here."

 

The MX doesn't smile- hell, it doesn't even blink- but Richard likes to believe, in the privacy of his own mind, that it understands.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop prompts in my [Ask Box](http://m4-93.tumblr.com/ask). Or just chat. I like chatting.


End file.
